


Don't Repress Your Feelings

by Princess_Citrus



Series: What Happens in the Desert... [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Consensual Violence, Feelings, M/M, Violence, toxic stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-29 11:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5125043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Citrus/pseuds/Princess_Citrus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Washington is about to snap. Dealing with the idiot medic and the monster who killed his best friend is too much for him to handle. He doesn't expect Doc to offer to help him or how he offers to help him. He really doesn't expect it to work.</p><p>tw consensual violence and some unsafe behaviors</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Repress Your Feelings

**Author's Note:**

> I have some shit to work out so I'm doing it by writing this. Just a disclaimer, this isn't the way to go about this kind of relationship. Remember to discuss boundaries and safe words with you partner before attempting anything this extreme.

It soon became routine for The Meta to join Doc on his bedroll at night, much to Agent Washington's anger. Doc wasn't going to lie, he took a little bit of pleasure into making his life harder. The man did take him hostage after all. There wasn't anything that Washington could do with his anger, however. The Meta wouldn't let him get near Doc if he thought he was a threat. They were still working on tracking the others, but it was difficult to track them in the desert, so they were still holed up in the dig site. The Meta refused to leave Doc behind with Washington when they went on patrols and instead opted to carry him on his back. Of course, there were some other ruins in the area where they could take shelter in the shade and fuck. It wasn't pleasant to fuck in the sand, but they weren't too concerned about pleasure. Doc was covered in bruises, bites, and scratches under his armor, but The Meta always carried him back to base, bridal style, and cleaned him up. They even tried some role reversal, with Doc using his best O'Malley impression. It was fun, but it was so exhausting for him that The Meta carried him back anyways.

It was wearing Agent Washington's patience thin. The two were prepping to go out on patrol when Wash stopped them. "This ends now," he growled. "You're supposed to be patrolling, not fucking around. Keep it up and we're going to be ambushed. The medic stays behind."

The Meta growled dangerously at Washington.

"All the more reason to do your patrol and come back. See you in three hours."

"It'll be fine," Doc said to The Meta, attempting to soothe them. "Just go."

The Meta watched Doc for a moment longer before knocking their helmets together lightly. They growled again at Washington as they passed and was still grumbling as they stalked out of sight.

The two of them stood in silence as they watched them go until long after they disappeared in the haze of the desert. "I hate you so much," Washington said before returning back to camp.

"The feeling's mutual," Doc muttered. He didn't understand why Washington was so upset. If anything, he thought he would be happier. The Meta was less jumpy with Doc around to calm him down and Doc didn't complain about being a hostage. Sure things were tense while they waited for their next move, but it was a lot better than if they were all still upset. He should be grateful.

He returned back to the temple where Wash was sitting, polishing his armor. "Fucking sand…" he muttered angrily.

"What's wrong with you?" Doc asked, taking off his helmet. It was too hot to be in full armor all day.

"Don't start with me," Wash spat.

"Jesus, what is your problem?"

"You!" Wash shouted, throwing down his helmet. "You are my problem! My life is on the line here, okay? If this doesn't work out, I go back to prison forever and I'm the only one taking this seriously while you and that monster are out having freaky orgies in the desert!"

"At least I got them off your back and you don't have to worry about them snapping and killing you in your sleep!" Doc defended himself.

"Them?" Wash asked, an eyebrow raised.

Doc shrugged and crossed his arms. "That's what they prefer."

"There is no 'they' just an 'it'!" Wash spat. "That thing is not human."

"So?" Doc asked with attitude.

"So? Why are you treating it like one? Why do you care about its pronouns?"

"You wouldn't understand! You don't know what it's like to have those things in your head."

Wash's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't understand? I wouldn't know what it's like to have an AI fragment? You think I wouldn't know? You think I wouldn't have any experience with an AI fragment that wreaks so much havoc in my mind that I didn't recognize myself in the mirror?" He had backed Doc up against the wall and lifted him up by the front of his armor. "You think I don't know what it's like to watch an AI tear my best friend apart from the inside out and use his body like a puppet? We didn't all have fun AI's like Omega. We didn't all have AI's that we were _sexually compatible_ with. Some of use had AI's that killed or nearly killed us, so don't tell me that I don't know what it's like to have one of those _things_ in my head."

Doc was breathless. He had no idea. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice tight.

Wash sneered with disgust and dropped him in the sand. "If The Meta wouldn't kill me for it I would have already killed you. It's bad enough that I have to work with it."

Doc didn't get up from where he landed. "You friend…was he…did he become The Meta?"

Wash picked up his helmet and started to polish it again, wiping off all of the sand that it was coated in. "I don't want to talk about it."

Doc took a seat next to him. "You shouldn't keep your feelings bottled up. It's only going to make things worse."

The glare that Wash gave him could've made paint peel.

"I know that I have no right to say this, but I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. You were a victim of Project Freelancer and you're being punished for trying to do the right thing and on top of everything else the only way to get your freedom is with working with the…thing that was your best friend. I'm sorry."

"No!" he shouted. "You don't get to say that to me! You don't get to be sorry! I'll make you sorry! Fuck The Meta! I'll beat the shit out of you right now!"

Doc knew that he was on thin ice, but he thought he might be able to help. It was a gamble, but it might work. "Do you want to?"

Wash looked taken aback. "What?" Doc started removing more of his armor.

"As long as you stop when I safeword, I'll let you. I'll explain it to The Meta so you don't have to worry."

"Is this some kind of fucked up sex thing for you?" Wash asked with disgust.

"No, I mean, it's complicated, but you need to let your feelings out on someone or something and I'm the only one here who you can do that to."

"Are…are you serious?" he asked. Doc nodded and folded up his glasses, setting them down beside him. Washington sputtered. "I-I-I-I couldn't, I just-"

"Please," Doc said quietly. "I want you to."

"I wouldn't know what to…how to…"

"Anything you want. Just, don't break anything. And I'll say green, yellow, or red. Green for yes, yellow for maybe, and red for stop. You can order me around or make me lick your boots. Take off your gauntlets though." Wash seemed frozen, but Doc just finished undressing, leaving himself in just his undersuit. When he looked back up, Wash was clumsily trying to remove his gauntlets.

"A-are you sure?" he asked, swallowing.

"Green," Doc answered with a small smile.

Wash stared at his hands. "How do I start?" he asked quietly.

"Any way you want. You can get into character or-" He was cut off when Wash slapped him across the face. He gasped and put a hand to his cheek. He looked up at Wash who was staring at him with fear. "Green," he said, standing back up straight. He was ready for the next one and hissed through his teeth with the sting of pain and pleasure. He peeked one eye open to watch for his next move and saw him curling his fist, his hand shaking. He stared at his own fist for a moment, debating whether or not to go through with it, but after Doc whispered "green" he extended his arm and followed through. He struck him on the soft part of his cheek and Doc could feel it immediately start to swell. The next one hit his lip, splitting it, and he felt warm blood running down his chin. He heard Wash gasp and reassured him with another "green."

A few more hits in and he switched to 'yellow.' Wash switched to his left hand and started in on the other side of his face. Doc soon reached his limit and knew he would not be able to safely take another hit. "Red," he said, his voice strained. Wash's fist stopped inches in front of his face and he swayed. Wash caught him as he fell.

"Oh my god!" he cried out, his voice squeaking. "Doc I'm so sorry, I should never have done this, I have no excuse! I am so, so sorry!" Doc was surprised to feel tears dripping onto his cheeks from Wash's eyes. He reached up and put a hand on his cheek and pulled Wash closer and gently kissed him, the coppery taste of blood in both of their mouths.

"I'm the one who should be sorry," he said, voice nasal-y. "This isn't the kind of thing you should jump into without discussing it first." He reached up and wiped the tears from his cheek with his thumb. "Thank you."

"W-why are you thanking me? I hurt you!"

Doc smiled, even though it hurt to do so. "I asked you to. And you stopped when I used my safe word." He took Wash's hand and kissed the back of it. "Can I tell you something? I know you're very vulnerable right now. Do you think you can accept what I'm about to say?"

Wash hesitated, then nodded.

"You're not a bad person, Wash. You're not a villain. I've met plenty of guys who really, really like hurting people and you're not one of them. You put on this cold, cruel exterior because you've been hurt so many times and it's the only way you know how to protect yourself. But you're not that person. You're a good person."

Wash shook his head and his hands trembled. "I'm not…"

"Wash, I don't expect you to accept all of that right now, especially when you're so raw, but please just think about what I said. You don't have to believe it, just think about it, okay?" Tears were flowing steadily down the Freelancer's cheeks. "Can you do that for me?"

Wash sobbed and nodded and he hugged Doc tightly. Doc shifted so he was sitting up next to Wash so he could hold him while he cried.

"I am so fucked up…" Wash mumbled into his palm.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one. I just asked you to hit me in the face, remember?"

Wash managed a small smile and Doc kissed his cheek. He noticed the bloody smears he was leaving everywhere he kissed.

"Let me clean you up," Wash said, standing up on shaking legs and retrieving the first aid kit. "The Meta's going to kill me," he muttered as he wiped down all the cuts with antiseptic. There weren't many, it was mostly bruises. He put cooling gel on his cheeks and forehead to help with the swelling.

"I'll take care of it," Doc told him, wincing and trying to hold still. "And we can take care of each other." Wash shrugged, but he had to admit that it would be nice to have someone who wanted to take care of him, even if he didn't deserve it. "You don't have to make any decisions now, just think about it."

Wash nodded, then kissed him gently, being conscious of his split lip. "I'll think about it."

They were both exhausted. Wash didn't understand how he could feel like he'd been hit by a truck when he wasn't the one who'd been hit at all, but it was nice, sitting with Doc. He decided that he didn't have the strength to feel embarrassed as Doc held him, stroking his hair. He just let himself feel…safe. For the first time in years, he felt safe. He allowed himself to let down his guard enough to let his eyelids droop closed and he dozed in Doc's arms.

They were both up and awake when the Meta came back, drinking coffee by the fire. It wasn't dark yet, but it was comforting. The oppressive heat of the desert didn't reach them inside the temple. The Meta made a bee line for Doc, but froze when they saw the injuries on his face. They raged at Wash and he prepared himself for the worst.

"Stop! Meta! It's okay!" Wash was surprised to find Doc standing in between them, hands raised. The Meta's fist was poised to strike Wash, but he didn't dare make a move against Doc. Doc put his hands on the Meta's chest plate and leaned close to whisper to him. "It's okay, I promise. I asked him to hit me. You know I like that and we can never do it because you're too strong. And he stopped when I used my safe word. He wouldn't do it until I told him that you wouldn't hurt him. You understand, right?" The Meta was slowly lowering their fist. "You understand me, Meta. And I understand you. Everything is okay…" The Meta sent a pointed look at Wash, but didn't move towards him. Instead, he picked up Doc and carried him over to a corner to sit with him and examine to extent of his injuries.

Wash watched them, fascinated as The Meta placed gentle kisses on his bruises and cuts. He was growling lowly…no, not growling- purring. Doc was smiling and laughing softly, kissing The Meta back. Wash dumped his coffee in the fire and retired to his bedroll. He was still so exhausted, even though he didn't understand why, and tried to sleep. It was strange. The sounds that Doc and the Meta were making were…soothing. The purring and the soft laughter made him forget everything- Epsilon, prison, Maine, all the people he'd killed. He slept soundly for the first time in forever.


End file.
